


When I Fell for You I Hit My Head on the Way Down

by Whizbang



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Magic Revealed, Sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-06
Updated: 2012-10-06
Packaged: 2017-11-15 17:55:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/530046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whizbang/pseuds/Whizbang
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pairing: Merlin/Arthur<br/>Rating: T<br/>Word Count: pretty short, actually :'D<br/>Spoilers: None<br/>Summary: Arthur finds out about Merlin's magic through the scars on his back.<br/>A/N: Nope</p><p> </p><p> Could be considered canon to everything but season 5, because of all the time lost in the show, and Morgana's torture of Merlin in "A Servant of Two Masters".</p><p>unsuspecting!Merlin<br/>scared!Arthur<br/>In the regular universe</p><p> </p><p>UPDATE:<br/>I'm currently in the process of writing another chapter, woop! ^^ Happy endings are important after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When I Fell for You I Hit My Head on the Way Down

             “ _M_ - _Merlin!_ ” Arthur shrieked, stepping backwards in shock as his servant reluctantly unclothed.  
___

    It had been raining, Arthur and Merlin had just gotten back from a hunt that had lasted many days; they were drenched in cold and miserable exhaustion as well as water that dripped from their jaws and down their necks, and puddled in their steps.

    Arthur noticed his manservant particularly, and decided it was necessary to lend him some clothes once they were in his quarters, considering Merlin did the laundry anyway, and no knight nor councilman was there to witness the highly inappropriate act of generosity.  
____ 

     Merlin’s eyes widened, caught by surprise. He had not yet realized why the king had been sent into such alarm.

             “How did you get so many scars?!” Arthur cried out, shaking. Arthur's arm holding it’s position, was perpendicular to his own body.

                         Arthur was pointing at him.  
                          _He was pointing at Merlin._

    Merlin’s fingers went cold as all the blood rushed to his head, realizing he had no explanation at hand to feed to Arthur about his worn physical appearance.  
                   Arthur had only known Merlin as a servant boy.

             “Scars?.. Where?” Merlin acted as though he couldn’t see them. He could.  
        So could Arthur.

             In Arthur’s eyes, Merlin was weak. He didn’t have scars.  
       He didn’t.  
       He _couldn’t._  
        **He just couldn’t.**

               Merlin hadn’t fought seriously a day in his life. He didn’t tame dragons. He didn’t fight evil.

       Merlin had only saved Arthur but once at a dinner party, but that was certainly no epic battle worthy of beatings and permanent markings on his flesh. He was clumsy. Cautious of things that could harm either one of them. That was Arthur’s Merlin. Innocent, _different_ Merlin.

      This was the back of a man who had lived a life of pain and hardships; of blood and tears and sweat and courage.  
              This was the back of a soldier.  
              This was the back of a _stranger._  
                      It didn’t fit. It didn’t match.

           “Merlin, how?! How did you get those?”

       Merlin tried to breath, but the air rejected him.  
       It wafted around his nose and shifted in the space, but it wouldn’t enter Merlin’s lungs.  
       It just passed him by, inanimate.  
            _Meaningless._

          “You must be seeing things,” Merlin lied.  
             “Are you in pain?” Arthur spoke, his voice cracking.  
          “Why would I be?” Merlin dismissed.  
            “ _You._ You look damaged.”

                            “Damaged? _Me?_ That’s silly.”

       Arthur could see the lie embedded in Merlin’s skin. There was proof of it.

 

**It was _right there. All along._**

        Of course Merlin was damaged. The damage was standing right in front of Arthur. Arthur could see the damage.  
                              But Merlin ignored it.

  
           How could he ignore it? How does a melon say it is a grape when it isn't?  
Merlin was just as obvious. His skin was obvious. It betrayed him. It wouldn’t lie for him--It wouldn’t pity him.

        It stranded him in the truth he was keeping from Arthur,  
              the one Arthur couldn’t see,  
            _shouldn’t_ see,

                      ** _wasn’t meant to see._**

       Merlin was cornered. Arthur, staring at his body as he would if it was a stranger’s...  
He could feel Arthur moving away, inching slowly... He hated it. He hated the idea of Arthur disowning him.

       Merlin’s heart was the only thing left with feeling still in it. It swelled and ached, heavy, like a milk jug. It shook and pounded, a prisoner, a culprit.

      Merlin tried to move his mouth in fear of it disappearing. He wasn’t ready to let his body give up.  
              _But his lips shook, too._  
      They melted and slid down his face, his words dripped out as water from a leaky faucet.  
           "I'm _trying_..." Merlin's word danced in his mouth unsavory sentence, tangoing,  
things he did not want to say, or to be heard.

Confessions.

       Merlin felt similar to that of a dried well. He was losing his influence, his hold of Arthur, his place by Arthur's side...It was over for him now.

Things would unravel soon enough. People would notice the water gone from his depths. 

                       It was only a matter of time now.

        The villagers would travel up to him, and one by one return to their homes with empty buckets, seeing the hopelessness of drought just once and never returning again. The well that is Merlin now. The hole in the ground that has no purpose anymore. Merlin, obsolete Merlin...

          “There is _nothing_ wrong with me.”  
                   Merlin smiled, his willpower near-death.  
         “I’m perfectly okay,” Merlin chuckled, his soul draining into the dirt.

             “Why are you doing that?” Arthur spoke softly, to himself.  
                       Arthur spoke as if to himself.  
            “Why are you like this now?”

        “Arthur, I’m telling you--”  
            “Why are you doing that, Merlin!” Arthur yelled. Merlin opened his mouth to speak--  
            "-- _Stop that!_ You keep dismissing things, it’s scaring me,” Arthur reasoned, losing his composure.  
       “What do you want me to say?” Merlin’s voice was the first thing to break.  
           “Stop scaring me, Merlin. Please.” Arthur moaned, his heart racing in his chest, overflowing, too fast, his heart thinking too fast for his brain to translate properly.

       “I don’t know how!” Merlin’s head sunk. He backed up to a wall, looking down at his feet.  
                 Arthur's body followed his forward as he stepped back.  
           "By being honest!" _But that will scare you even more!_  
                 Merlin’s entire body was now shaking.  
                 His stare lowered with his brows, scrunched down, pained, uncontrolled. All attention was fixed on his tear ducts.  
                        Arthur stood above him, his eyes mad with confusion, his body stiff and tense. He was icy brick.

       Merlin was flexing every muscle around his eyes to keep from crying.

                    He wouldn’t cry.  
 _No._  
                      He wouldn’t.

           It was the last thing left to not do.

           Crying meant game over.  
      Merlin wouldn’t doom himself like that. He wouldn’t.

                              No.  
                         Nono, _no_.  
          He wouldn’t do that to Arthur.

      "Arthur, those are old wounds."  
          "That's not what I have asked you and you know it."  
      "Arthur, don't look at me like that. I'm still myself, alright?! I'm still..." Merlin swallowed hard.  
           "Merlin, calm down!" Arthur tried to get ahold of himself and see what he was doing to his manservant.

         Merlin was a wreck and they both knew it.  
           "Maybe this...this is my fault, isn't it," Arthur laughed faintly and his eyes turned somber and compassionate...Marbled like blue skies reflecting in water tops, glossy and tired. He was too tired to stay mad for very long.  
     "I...What?" Merlin scoffed and cocked his head down further to hide his surprise, his eyes flashing to the sides.  
          "Are those scars...Did they happen for me? Did you...." Arthur's voice cracked again, his tone wavered and rifted and was unstable in the bleak idea Arthur entertained briefly.    

                       "Did you get all these acting for my benefit?"

At this, Merlin lost control of a tear duct, for a second he let it slide, a single drop dripped down his cheek, to his chin and smacked down on the stone floor. It piled and dispersed into the dirt and dust beneath his feet.

 

 

                                    _"Answer me, Merlin."_

 

 

______________________________

For you I'd bleed myself, dry.  
____________________________________________


End file.
